


Now Accelerate Hard

by run run whithertits (whithertits)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Crossdressing, D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-14
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whithertits/pseuds/run%20run%20whithertits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a hunter who did not so much fall into a D/s relationship as saunter into one without noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now Accelerate Hard

***

It could have started in many ways.

The way it started was this.

***

Castiel's cock inside of Dean felt like revelation, huge and all consuming. It split him wide open, the tight burn of entry sending bright bursts of pleasure through his body.

"Open your eyes, Dean," Castiel said, quiet in the still air of the hotel room. He slid his hand up Dean's forearm, tracing his fingers up the line of Dean's tendon. He pressed his thumb against the pulse in Dean's wrist; Dean could imagine the feel of his pulse fluttering against Cas 's skin, trying to escape.

Dean opened his eyes. Castiel loomed above him, eyes piercing into Dean's own. Unease tried to rise within him, feeling too open, too well-known. He closed his eyes again and turned his face to the sid e away.

Castiel's fingers tangled with Dean's as he began to thrust, pressing their sweat-wet palms together. Dean opened his eyes again to the sight of their clasped hands. He turned his head and met Cas' gaze again. "Cas," he breathed out and reached up to tangle his fingers in Castiel's hair , stretching up to press a kiss to his dry, chapped lips.

Castiel kissed back with slow, languid motions, keeping the kiss gentle. He eased Dean's mouth apart and fucked his tongue inside. He'd learned the "trappings of human love-making" quickly, so earnest and intent that even their first, fumbling joinings had driven Dean half-mad. He hadn't been with a virgin since he was a teenager, driven by hormones and wild emotions, preferring girls who wouldn't be hurt when he was gone in the morning.

He could be there in the morning with Cas. Cas, who had never been with someone else, who even after Dean was gone, lost to the hunt or old age, would remember him. It made his breath catch every time they came together, that someone so pure, so good, could want him at all, let enough to choose him for something so significant. Only the gentle slide of Castiel's hands and bright light of his eyes would steady him at times like those, Cas's low voice reassuring him even as it broke him apart.

Castiel drew back from the kiss. "Focus, Dean," he said, hips rocking gently, so gently, but it couldn't disguise the hot-h ard touch of his cock inside, couldn't make up for the feeling that something larger than just a man had him pinned to the bed. It was no more gentle than the slow tug of the tide, trying to drag Dean out to sea. "Don't think. Just feel." He gripped Dean's cock to emphasize the words, squeezing it slowly in time to his thrusts, base to tip and back.

"How am I supposed to focus with your cock in my ass, man?" Dean protested.

"Focus on me," Cas answered, and his next thrust hit Dean's prostate, shocking a gasp out of Dean's chest. He pulled his hand from Dean's cock and used it to pin the hand in his hair to the bed. "Let your body react; don't try to hold it back. It will take care of itself. I want your attention on _me_." He punctuated his words with another sharp jab to Dean's prostate, setting off sparks in Dean's mind.

Cas wasn't helping Dean to catch his breath this time. His eyes bore into Dean, but an angel didn't need eyes to see all of Dean's secrets. There were no secrets, especially not from Cas. "Alright," he breathed out. He let his hands fall limp to either side of his head, let his fingers fall slack. He didn't move them after Cas drew his hands back, the lost warmth of his palms immediately forgotten as Cas used his free hand to clamp onto Dean's shoulder. His scar, Cas's scar, the one Cas burned into his soul so deeply it showed on his skin, sprang to life.

He could feel Cas's cock inside him, so perfect, could feel the weight of his body pressing Dean down into the bed, could even feel Cas's other hand return to its previous grip on his cock. But more than that, he could suddenly feel _Cas_ , the light of his soul so bright it felt like he was blinded, though he could still see.

"That's right," Cas soothed, the words going straight through Dean's soul to reverberate in his cock. "Just feel." He bent down and pressed their lips together again, shoving his tongue inside and licking up the rough ridges of Dean's palate.

Dean was wrecked. Castiel was everywhere, inside and out, burning out any feeling of shame, of embarrassment that tried to crawl its way up out of his depths. He was beyond full, the gnawing feeling of emptiness that seemed his only constant companion destroyed, filled by Cas's light. Distantly, he could feel his legs twitching, his balls drawing up tight to his body. It was secondary to the feeling inside, the sudden bright knowledge that what he was feeling was Castiel's love, shining bright inside his own darkness, pushing back the shadows.

His muscles tensed up and he _came_ , pinned down by Cas's cock. The first wave was long, too long-- he shot off like a geyser, what felt like a constant flow of come erupting from his cock. His body was out of control, arching against Castiel's again and again, until he could feel Cas start to fall with him, his light pouring out of him into Dean, so he wasn't so much filled by Cas as they were _joined_ , mixed together so he couldn't tell where he stopped and Castiel began.

He didn't notice blacking out, but he came too at the wet slide of Cas's softening cock out of his ass. He grimaced at the wet, fucked open feeling of his hole, desperately trying to close up around the space where Cas had made himself a home. "God," he said faintly.

Cas didn't say anything, his own breathing ragged and fast. He took his hand off of Dean's shoulder in a quick pull, like it hurt do it, like the scar had started to burn his hand. The connection he hadn't realized was still in place disappeared, snuffed out like a candle, leaving Dean alone inside his skin once again. A quiet sound of protest escaped from him at the sensation, but he was too tired to chase after it.

He tracked Cas's movements by habit, offering no resistance until Castiel straddled his chest and held out his cock for Dean to take. "Dude, gross," he muttered, arching his head away. "You never go ass-to-mouth, that's, like, anal sex rule number 3, right after lube and prepping."

"I want you to taste it," Cas said. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, and the feeling of being pinned beneath some great creature returned to Dean. "Taste the mark I left behind inside of you."

Dean met Cas's stare head on. With a grimace, he bent his head and sucked Cas's limp cock into his mouth, wondering if he would taste come, lube or his own ass.

He tasted those things but underneath there was the taste of Cas, skin and the faintest hint of ozone.

That was how it started.

***

It occurred to Dean, the next morning, that Cas was like no one else he'd ever been with-- Cas had no shame, no societal expectations holding him back from doing whatever he felt like.

Let no one accuse Dean Winchester of a man who would let opportunity pass him by.

He'd never... bought anything like this himself. He was a simple guy, with simple needs-- give him willing body and a warm smile and he'd pretty much be ready to go, no window dressing necessary. But window dressings weren't _bad_. If a girl brought in handcuffs, he was happy to tie them up, call them a bad girl, maybe spank them a little-- and if they wanted to do it to him, well that was just fine, too. He was open minded, after all.

But the panties thing-- that he'd only ever done once. He would never have brought it up, but if Cas wouldn't have a problem with it, why the hell not?

"My girlfriend got soaked at the last rest stop," he said apologetically to the store clerk. "She bitched-- er, complained at me until I agreed to stop by the nearest town, pick up some dry underwear for her. What's-- what's good?"

"We'll take care of you, no problem, sir," the clerk-- Sarah, her name tag read-- reassured him. "Would you like to buy a set, or one individually?"

Dean didn't have to fake the hunted look that came over his face. "I guess-- a pack? That's cheaper, yeah?"

"You'll get more for your money," Sarah agreed, and pointed toward the wall. "We've got some very nice cotton sets, in white, grey and black."

Dean nodded. He looked at the picture on the set she was pointing at and looked guiltily at Sarah. "Do you think-- do you think you have anything... cuter?" he said, blushing furiously.

"Ah," Sarah said, smirking. "You're looking to make an investment. We've got a nice sale on some cuter panties on that table over there-- 5 for 15$. You know what size she is?" Dean nodded. "Then I'll leave you do it. I'm sure your girlfriend will be very happy with whatever you pick out."

Dean rushed through his choices, aware he'd put a time limit on himself-- a nice boyfriend wouldn't want to make his wet girlfriend wait too long in the car, after all. He grabbed anything that didn't look too frilly-- he'd handled enough pairs of panties to know that lace fucking _itched_ , even on his hands-- and dumped them on the counter top for Sarah to ring through. The clerk winked at him when she scanned the thong he'd somehow let get mixed in with the others.

One swipe of Gene Eastwood's credit card and he was out the door, the string handles of his girly little bag of panties clutched tight. He dumped the bag-- and the thong-- into the trash bin next to the Impala and shoved the tissue paper wrapped purchases down the side of his duffle bag.

Their food would be ready for pick up in five minutes, and Sam was waiting.

***

"These are women's undergarments." Castiel sorted through them slowly, as though looking for a clue to Dean's thought process. "What do you want to do with them?" he asked, confused.

"I want you to choose one for me to wear," Dean said again, cock already half hard at the thought. "And then I want you to fuck me."

"Do you find the texture arousing?" Castiel asked. He seemed to have settled on a pair, white with a black pattern of circles and diamonds.

"It's not about that." Dean hesitated, trying to work out how to phrase it. "It's about-- the taboo of it. About doing something," he could feel himself blushing at the next word, "naughty."

"And you like being-- naughty," Castiel said, nodding his understanding. "Very well." He held out the pair of panties. "These ones will do. Strip, and put these on, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean breathed out. He lifted his shirt off over his head, and pushed down his boxer-briefs with his pants, stepping out of them quickly. He walked over to Cas naked and grabbed the panties. They were simple-- cotton, low rise. He'd shaved his bikini zone, knowing they were doing this tonight, so when he slid the panties over his hips and gently adjusted himself, not even a hint of hair showed. His cock, half hard and getting harder, bulged the front of the fabric out obscenely. He could feel himself smearing it from the inside already.

"This taboo has to do with your perception of the other sex," Castiel said, suddenly standing and pressed up behind Dean. He'd shed his trench coat, and Dean could feel the stiff lines of his shirt cuffs brushing the small of his back when Cas traced the black elastic line at the top of the panties just above the curve of Dean's ass. "Do you find the thought of being treated as a woman arousing?"

"I don't wanna be treated like a girl," Dean protested, spinning around and pulling Castiel into a hard kiss. "I just-- I wanna get _fucked_ like one, tonight, that's all."

Castiel seemed to look inward for a moment. "I understand," he said eventually. His gaze refocused on Dean, and he brought his hand up and _shoved_ , pushing Dean back to fall on the bed.

Dean shuffled back on the bed until he could stretch out fully and watched as Castiel unbuttoned and slid off his collared shirt, took off his shoes, his pants. Eventually Castiel was naked, thick cock already hard and arching up toward his belly. Dean licked his lips. "You gonna join me?" he asked, spreading his legs in invitation. His own cock was fully hard and peaked out from the top of his belly, obscenely.

"Get on your hands and knees," Castiel said as he approached the bed. Dean did as he was told and looked back over his shoulder at Cas, who licked his dry lips at the sight. "Your ass looks good like this," he said, cupping Dean's cheeks in his hands. He squeezed them once, firmly, before slipping one finger under the seam to inch closer.   
"My ass always looks good," Dean smirked and wiggled his ass invitingly. "You gonna do anything with it while you're back there?"

Cas cocked his head to the side. "It would be a pity to take these off right away," he said. He drew his hand back and smacked the curve of Dean's ass and blinked when Dean yelped and leaned away from his touch. He rubbed the spot where he had smacked Dean's ass, covered by the cotton material. "Tell me about why you wanted to wear these tonight, Dean."

Dean squirmed, frustrated with the slow pace. "What do you mean? I told you, it's taboo."

"I want more than that." Castiel was suddenly on top of Dean, chest pressed to Dean's back, heavy and hot. "Tell me everything, Dean."

Dean let out an unhappy gust of breath which caught in his throat as Cas slid his hand down the front of Dean's panties to cup his cock. "Fuck, it-- I like, I like the idea of-- of being weak," he said, voice hoarse. "Not that girls are weak, but they aren't as strong as me. I like the idea of being held down."

"I can hold you down, Dean," Cas breathed into his ear, his hand moving slowly on Dean's cock, the elastic restraining the movement. "I am stronger than any human could hope to be, stronger than many of the monsters you face. Even if you fought, there would be nothing you could do." He squeezed Dean's cock once, almost too-hard, a threat. "If I wanted to, there is no way I could not have you."

"Fuck yeah," Dean breathed out, trying to thrust his hips against the weight of Cas on his back.

Cas kissed the skin just behind his ear. "Keep talking," he said. He removed his hand from the front of Dean's panties and moved it to rub Dean's balls from outside the cotton layer, tracing the bulge of them.

"I don't know, I guess-- the first time, it was her idea. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I _did_ , and I like that she made me do it even though I wasn't sure. I liked not being sure," he confessed. Castiel kept up the touches on his balls, a constant distraction.

"You enjoy having your boundaries pushed," Castiel said. He offered his fingers to Dean, who sucked them in eagerly, the taste of Cas's skin familiar and dear. "It is not just that it is a taboo you are breaking-- it is that it is taboo for you, as well." Dean grunted his agreement from around Castiel's fingers and whined in disappointment as they were withdrawn. "You like the idea of having your power stripped from you."

"No," Dean shook his head and moaned when Castiel drew his panties to the side just far enough to thrust his fingers, wet with lube, into his ass, stretching him ready. "I like the idea of-- of giving it away. To you," he added hurriedly.

"Only to me," Cas agreed. "Because you trust me."

Dean nodded, and jerked when Cas's fingers brushed his prostate. " _Yes_."

"Then from now on, I will choose which of your boundaries I will push. This will make you uncomfortable at times-- is that what you want, Dean?"

Dean could feel himself starting to sweat, his body heating up as his orgasm approached. "Yeah," he admitted. "Just-- just sometimes, but-- _fuck_ , yes, that's what I want."

"You will have to do as I say," Cas said. Dean closed his eyes, and let Cas's voice wash over him. "It's instinctive to shy away from leaving your comfort zone. You will have to trust that I will not take you too far. Can you do that, Dean?"

Dean whined, deep in his throat. With Cas's fingers in his ass and and those words in his ears, it was hard to make his voice work. He pulled himself together and squeezed his eyes shut tight against what his words meant. "I-- yes, I can. I will."

"Good," Cas said. He backed away, lessening the claustrophobic feeling that had been creeping up on Dean. His fingers slid out from Dean's ass and Dean could hear him slicking his cock, but he didn't look back. He was too busy trying to stop himself from shaking apart at what he'd just agreed to do.

"Relax, Dean," Cas said. He pulled the seat of Dean's panties to the side again and rubbed his cock up the crease of Dean's ass. It caught for a moment at Dean's hole and kept going, further up, then back down, all the way, to rest nestled against the back of Dean's sac. "You know I would never hurt you." He moved his cock back up and pushed in, past the initial resistance, stretching Dean's entrance out wide.

"I know," Dean said. His arms shook, but he took out the support of two arms to reach for his own cock, rubbing the shaft from outside the panties, dancing around the naked head of his cock, so wet. Cas' cock pressed in further, a burning stretch that Dean couldn't decide was painful or n ot. Cas pressed in another inch and any hint of pain fell away, subsumed by the sharp burst of pleasure as his prostate lit up inside of him.

Castiel was never rushed. No matter how Dean begged, he would never just give it to Dean like he want ed: harder, faster, _more_. His cock always felt so huge inside of Dean, stabbing so far into him it felt like it was trying to make itself at home in his guts.

 _Never say never_ , Dean thought to himself, as Cas bottomed out and stayed there, immovable, for a handful of long, desperate heartbeats, before sliding out and fucking in _hard_ , knocking Dean off balance so he fell to the bed face first. Cas leaned forward and buried his fingers in Dean's hair, holding his face down on the mattress. It shifted Dean's body enough that Cas's cock started to hit his prostate on every. single. thrust.

" _'S good,_ " Dean slurred to Cas, voice muffled by the bed covers. His hand sped on his cock, slid inside the panties so there were no barriers to go through. _Fucking panties_ , he was still wearing them, Cas had just shoved them to the side and fucked right on in, 'cause he liked the look of them on Dean. The thought sent Dean's mind spinning. "'Cas, please, you gotta-- you gotta talk to me, man."

"What would you like me to say, Dean?" Cas sounded slightly out of breath, just as worked up as Dean. "Do you want me to talk about how tight you are? How soft and hot? How I can barely see the pink rim of your hole past these undergarments and how that's so frustrating, because I love the look of your ass gripping me tight?"

"Yes, fuck, that's-- yeah." Dean's hand sped on his cock, working furiously. Cas's balls slapped against his own, still trapped by the thin cotton fabric, and he whined, pleasure building almost too high inside him, high enough he couldn't believe he hadn't come yet.

Castiel groaned, long and low and changed his pace, the shortfast jabs slowing into long, hard thrusts, drawing back until Dean could feel just the head of Cas' dick sticking into him and then bottoming out again, long strokes that sent shockwaves of pleasure shooting toward Dean's cock. "You need something more, don't you?" he growled out, and Dean shouted as he somehow caught a better angle, hit his prostate harder, "Need something more than your hand on your cock and my cock in your ass. You want more, Dean?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Dean repeated, over and over, and _screamed_ when he felt Cas's finger trace the rim of his ass, stretched wide already, and slid e inside with his cock. Suddenly he didn't need any more, he was coming, shaking apart as it felt like every organ in his body shot out through his dick, come hitting the underside of his chin and messing the sheets beneath him.

He whined, deep in his throat, as Cas kept fucking him, holding his hips in place so Dean wouldn't collapse to the side and thrusting hard into his spasming channel. Cas came with a shout, and Dean could feel his cock swell with it, twitching inside of him, pumping out his come into Dean's ass.

Cas didn't collapse. He never collapsed, not like Dean, a puddle of loose limbs and come-soaked skin, who fell to the side, off of Cas's cock, the moment Cas released his grip on his hips. He landed half on top of the wet spot and grimaced at the feel but didn't move, too well-fucked to bother.

He whined a protest when Cas lifted his leg up and apart, turning him onto his back. With careful, soft touches, Cas moved Dean's balls out of the way and shoved his face into Dean's crack, awkward at this angle. Not so awkward he couldn't seal his mouth over Dean's hole and suck, drawing out his come.

Dean shivered at the touch, knowing what came next. Cas sucked hard and drew back, sliding up Dean's body to hover above him. His lips were sealed, and stayed that way until Dean opened his mouth and Cas dived in, pushing his own come into Dean's mouth with his tongue, feeding it to him.

Dean didn't really get it, but Cas had a thing for making him taste anything that went into his ass. He didn't have to get it for it to turn him on, though.

***

Dean hadn't expected it to happen all the time. It wasn't Cas's fault, of course-- every time he touched Dean, all he could remember was the promise he'd made to Cas. It should have scared him, it should have made him lash out and try to find a way out of it; instead it made his heart ache, filled with the kind of bright, painful love he'd almost never felt in his life.

It scared him but not enough to call it off. Not enough to tell Cas he didn't trust him.

Cas didn't have to do anything, anymore-- whenever they came together, Dean's promise would push his boundaries just by its existence, by the fact that he wasn't pushing Cas away when he was already too close for comfort.

Sam was going to catch them at it one day if Cas kept setting him off in public, though.

"Cas, come on, I'm fine," Dean pushed Cas back, out of the personal bubble he carefully maintained whenever they weren't alone together in a hotel room or the Impala. Cas ignored him, body immovable, as he ran his hands down Dean's arms, over his chest and back and down each leg, searching for injury. "I told you, I'm _fine_."

"I can smell it on you, Dean. Don't try to hide from me." He stripped Dean's leather jacket off and ran his hands over Dean's chest again, slow strokes from collar bone to hip. Without the leather jacket's barrier between his skin and Cas's touch, he couldn't hide the flinch when Cas ran his palm over the slice in his skin, fingers catching on the tear in his shirt.

"Well, okay, I've got _one_ cut, but reall y, Cas', I'm _fine_. It barely hurts." Dean tried to drag Cas's hands out from his shirt and flushed when the angel just shot him a hard, stern look that Dean shouldn't have found nearly as hot as he did.

Cas's thumb found the cut, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath, shocked. He wasn't lying-- the cut _didn't_ hurt, not when it was being left alone. That didn't mean _poking_ at it was a good idea.

Cas drew his finger out and showed Dean the blood he'd wiped from Dean's skin. "If it's still bleeding, it needs treatment."

"Look, I'm sure it'll have stopped by the time we get back to the room. It's--"

Cas pressed his fingers against Dean's forehead, and they were back in the room. Sam, hunched over his laptop on the bed, jumped up. "What the-- are you alright?" he asked, scrutinizing them both before settling on Cas, who still held Dean's jacket in his hand. "What happened?"

"Your brother was injured," Cas said, and started to unbutton Dean's shirt.

Dean's eyes widened and darted between his Sam's face and Castiel's hands and made a grab for Castiel's wrists. His shirt, hanging open now, showed off the round, dark love-bites Cas' had taken to leaving all over his skin. He flushed and tried to turn away from Sam's gaze.

"Stop that," Cas snapped, maneuvering Dean's shirt off his shoulders, taking advantage of Dean's distraction.

"Right," Sam said, laptop slapped shut. "I'm just going to leave you to this. I need-- coffee. Lots of coffee." He grabbed his keys on the way out and the door clicked shut behind him.

"Pick up the Impala!" Dean shouted after him. Castiel had his shirt down to his wrists, and he shook it off with a grimace, bare-chested and cold. He gestured at the slice on his hip, which was still bleeding sluggishly. "It would have stopped by the time we got here if we'd taken the car."

Castiel dabbed at the cut with gentle fingers. "Sit," he said firmly and gestured to the bed.

Dean's heart rate picked up again and he went to the bed and sat, legs spread automatically. Castiel followed him and dropped to his knees between Dean's spread legs. Dean left his hands limp at his side, unsure what Cas wanted him to do with them.

"Leave them at your sides," Cas said. He looked at the blood on his fingers with a critical eye and licked it off slowly. He raised his eyes to Dean's. "It's never 'nothing' when you bleed, Dean."

"I know," Dean said quietly. "Blood has all sorts of powers, rituals it can be used in-- I'm not going to go leaving my blood around for some demons or witches to find, though--"

"That's not what I meant, Dean," Cas chided. He met Dean's eyes as he leaned forward and breathed onto the cut. "Your blood is not what makes you precious." He leaned forward and licked at the dried blood on Dean's hip, slowly, making sure to clean every patch of skin fully before moving on.

Dean drew in a shuddering breath and kept his hands at his side through sheer force of will. Predictably, his cock hardened in his jeans. "You shouldn't go around licking people's cuts, Cas. It's not sanitary."

Castiel rolled his eyes up to meet Dean's gaze as his tongue reached out to lap at the tacky blood of the cut, causing more to well up. He licked his lips, wiping the blood away. "Sanitary? Why wouldn't this be sanitary, Dean?" He sealed his lips over the cut and sucks lightly, sending sharp fissures of pain up Dean's side.

"The human mouth is filthy," Dean breathed out, head hanging limply, eyes watching Cas at half mast. "Full of bacteria. And blood-- blood's no better. I could have something you could catch."

Castiel licked up more of the blood; the cut Castiel had sealed his mouth to was gone, sealed without even a scar. "I can eliminate any infection of the blood you could develop, Dean. And as an angel, my kiss could never cause you harm."

"Tell that to these fuckin' hickeys you just showed off to Sammy," De an muttered as he watched Cas drink down his blood and heal the cut with his lips, blood smeared over his face in a nauseating reminder of Sam, all the times he'd fallen off the wagon. His cock wilted at the thought.

"Those do not harm you. They're like my mark upon your shoulder-- they show others that you're _mine_." Castiel licked off the last of the blood from Dean's hip and cleaned his lips again. He frowned at Dean. "You didn't like this."

"I did," Dean protested, hands jerking as though to punctuate his motion before he remembered that he wasn't to move them. "It's just-- Sammy. The demon blood. It reminds me of that."

Castiel pushed himself up from his crouch and sat down on the bed next to Dean, depressing the cheap mattress with a _whoosh_ of air. It always somehow surprised Dean, that Cas was heavy. He should have been like one of those elves from those movies Sam made them marathon-- able to walk on top of the snow, almost weightless.

"The sharing of blood between an angelic vessel and a human is not the same as when a demon shares its taint," Cas said, twining their hands together. "It would not be _wise_ for you to drink my blood-- it would be quite intoxicating-- but there would be no addiction, no anger. Only bliss."

"Sounds like some kind of drug," Dean said as he curled his fingers gratefully into Cas's.

"If they could get a hold of it, I'm sure it would be." He tilted his head. "With Gabriel running around on Earth for so long, it's possible he's let some of his blood out onto the market. It would cause the frenzied chaos he was so fond of."

"What do you get when you-- my blood. What happens when you... drink it?" Dean asked, still uncomfortable and unhappy about how obvious that was.

"Nothing, Dean. Human blood has no effect on angels." He put his fingers underneath Dean's chin and turned Dean's face toward his own. "But it is _yours_ , and I would never reject any part of you." He leaned forward and pressed his lips, still chapped dry even with all the spit and blood he'd been wiping over them, to Dean's. "I want you to remember that."

Dean ducked his head and nodded. He took a deep breath and tilted his head back up, and Cas gave him the kiss Dean wanted.

***

"This is going to be harder for you than usual," Cas said. He placed the blindfold over Dean's eyes and Dean ducked his head low, so Cas could see the back of his head as he tied the knot. "I can promise you that no harm will come to you. Do you need any more to obey, Dean?"

With the light of the room blocked out, all of Dean's attention was focused sharply on the sound of Cas's voice. The bed pressed against the naked backs of his thighs, the same as it always had, comforting. "Yes. I want-- I want to be good."

"You are good, Dean," Cas soothed, and his hand was suddenly there, on Dean's shoulder, grounding him. "But I need to know that you can trust me, tonight, to take care of you completely. Can you do that?"

"I'll try," Dean said, unsure.

"Good." With that, Cas's hand was gone from his shoulder. With Castiel silent, it felt like Dean was alone in the room, the sound of his breath his only companion. He wished angels made more _noise_.

He jumped at the sound of the bathroom sink running, just for a handful of heartbeats, before shutting off again. He turned his head toward where he knew Cas had to be standing, maybe coming out of the bathroom, walking towa-- "Oh," he said, and leaned into the touch on his cheek, nuzzling it gently.

"This will feel strange," Cas's voice whispered to him, and Dean couldn't help but jump in surprise as water dripped onto his knee. Cas's hand withdrew from his face and reappeared on his leg, smearing the water down Dean's legs, the wet skin taking up all of his attention, chill against the air.

Dean could hear something being shaken, briefly and then heard the quiet _hiss_ of an aerosol can. Cas's hand disappeared from his skin but was back almost immediately, spreading a thick coat of-- "Is that shaving cream?" he asked, heart thumping.

"It is," Cas answered. His hands spread the shaving cream down Dean's leg, spreading it gently from his ankle to his knee. "You need to stop asking questions, Dean. The uncertainty is meant to be part of this, or I would not have put the blindfold on you."

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Okay. I can still talk, though?"

"I would have told you if I wanted you quiet."

"Good," Dean nodded to himself and forced himself to stillness when Cas gripped his ankle gently, gentle but immovable. He took in a deep breath and forced himself not to jump at the gentle touch of a razor against his skin. The knowledge that he _could_ talk was enough, and he sat in silence as Cas slowly, carefully, shaved his leg. The swipe of the razor against him made his skin tingle, each new patch of skin revealed ultra-sensitive, bright spots of focus in the dark. The moments without the razor against his skin while Cas cleaned the cream and hair off somehow seemed worse, leaving him with nothing to focus on but the naked chill of his legs.

The razor reached his knee and started again on the back on his legs. The skin there somehow seemed more sensitive, thinne r, every pull making his breath catch. His cock had taken a keen interest in the process, half hard against the inside of his thigh.

He gasped at the sudden feeling of cloth against his skin, the fabric coarse, too rough against his newly-sensitive skin. The cloth wiped down all the skin from his knee down to his ankle and left his whole leg tingling. Next came the wet slick of lotion, too cold to be comfortable, but Cas's hands were warm, gentle, as they rubbed it into his skin.

Water dripped onto the skin of his knee, and it all started over again. Cas was silent as he worked, and Dean couldn't stand it anymore. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" The blade of the razor moved up his leg.

"I know you said no questions, but," he clenched his fingers tight, bunching the bedspread. "Why are you shaving my legs?"

"It's not enough that I want them shaved?" Cas asked, voice curious.

Dean shook his head, violently. "No, that's not-- but you've," his breath caught on the word, "cut me before. Shaving seems.. . tame. I don't see what's so special about it."

Cas was silent, but his hands kept moving, each swipe of the razor swiping away more hair. "I think you need to be quiet after all, Dean."

Dean's mouth snapped shut and unhappy nausea churned in his stomach. He shouldn't have said anything.

"To answer your question, we'll be going out tonight. There are certain expectations, where we will be going-- a certain aesthetic. I am making sure you fit the mould."

 _Going out?_ Dean's mind screamed and he hated himself for a moment, for not being able to keep his mouth shut long enough that he could have asked about this when it came up. He couldn't keep the low whine from creeping out of his chest as his body started shaking, light tremors that stilled Cas's motions.

Cas brushed his lips lightly over Dean's knee. "All you need to do tonight is trust me, Dean. I'll take care of the rest."

Dean could only nod, blind and silenced. He couldn't help but notice his traitor of a cock was now fully hard, a desperate ache he wouldn't be able to do anything about for-- however long this plan of Castiel's took. The thought made his cock twitch. Stupid thing didn't know what was good for it.

He rubbed his hands over the top of his thighs, needing the contact, the distraction from the strange place his mind was trying to fall into, each pass of the razor trying to lull him into passivity. Cas's pace never faltered, maddening, while Dean wound up tighter, felt like he was falling deeper, everything in him focused sharply on Cas.

He could feel the heat of his body, radiating outward. If he held his own breath, he could just hear the steady, even breaths Cas took. That extra awareness of Cas soothed him and he didn't even twitch when the cloth reappeared against his skin, wiping him down. He shivered at the cold touch of the lotion, nerves searching for the warmth of Castiel's skin past it.

"Very good, Dean," Cas said. Dean could hear the faintest ruffle of cloth and then Cas's hand was against his shoulder, pushing him back. "Lean back. I need to do your thighs."

Dean couldn't keep the moan inside, at that. It crept out, low and long, as he fell back to his elbows.

Cas lifted his calf with one hand, gripped tight to counteract the lotion still slicking his fingers. The water and shaving cream went on smooth, and Cas started to work. The strokes of the razor were longer, clearing longer patches of skin with each swipe, but Cas moved slower than ever. Dean's breath turned ragged as the blade crept over high skin, the sensitive skin of his inner thigh trembling and tense.

"Dean," Cas said and just like that, his attention was dragged back to the hold Cas had on his leg, the heat pulsing off Cas's body between his legs. His listened intently and the slow exhale of Cas's breath came to him, quiet and even. His legs stopped trembling.

Cas's hand squeezed his leg once in reassurance, and the razor started up again. Cas seemed to work quickl y after that, and soon both of Dean's thighs felt just as bare as his calves, tingling at the slightest touch.

Cas gently lowered Dean's leg back down and stepped out from between them, the heat of his body shocking in its absence. It returned quickly, Cas's hands gripping Dean's toe and ankle firmly and maneuvering it into the cavity of a shoe.

 _Heels_ , Dean thought to himself dazedly. _Those are-- those are heels._ He bit his tongue to keep quiet, uncertainty warring with anticipation and making his hands sweat. He blinked his eyes open behind the blindfold and squeezed them shut again right away-- the cloth was thick enough he couldn't even see a hint of light, and with his eyes open it made it harder to remember where he was. With his eyes closed, he knew the world was still out there-- could pretend that if he _chose_ to open his eyes, it would be there waiting for him.

Cas put the other shoe on him. There were no straps to hold his feet in, no buckles or laces or ties. Just the shoe, exactly the right size, shaping his feet into points and curving his calves in a way he could picture perfectly.

Cas's hand on his shoulder came as a surprise, pulling him steadily to his feet. Dean stood and wavered, the task of finding his balance suddenly unfamiliar and strange. He could picture the two of them-- Cas in his shirt and pants, the top button of his undone, sleeves rolled back, and he, standing tall above him, naked but for the heels and blindfold. _Probably black_ , Dean's mind whispered. _Looks better if they match the blindfold._

"Are you ready, Dean?" Cas asked, the only grounding force Dean could find. Dean nodded. "Good."

Cas pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and the sudden dropping feeling of angelic teleportation sent Dean's mind spinning. He shot his leg out to the side to catch his balance and grabbed for Cas, right where he should have been, to steady himself.

 

He could hear people. Quiet voices surrounded him, interspersed with the occasion laugh or moan. He could hear the wet smack of skin on skin from somewhere to his left and swung his head toward Cas, desperately searching for comfort.

"Shhhhhhh," Cas said. He moved Dean's desperate, clutching hands off his shoulder and placed them gently at his sides. Dean shuddered in relief as Cas didn't remove his fingers, instead tracing them up Dean's arm and across the back of his shoulders and then down his side, slow and gentle. His other hand appeared on his other wide, so Cas cupped his waist between his hands. "Relax. No one will touch you but me."

Dean knew that. He knew that Cas would never let anyone else touch him, because Cas knew that like this, Dean wouldn't be able to stop himself from lashing out against the dark, against anything unknown. But the people around him could still _see_. He could practically feel their eyes on him, looking at his scars, his cock, the way he had to lean back into Castiel's touch to keep balance.

Cas's hand on his cock dragged his mind back into place. "They find you arousing, Dean," Cas said, rubbing the rough stubble of his cheek against Dean's back. "Just as I do, they find you arousing. A strong, powerful man like you-- so tall, in those heels. But you've made yourself powerless." His hand slid around, down Dean's belly and curled around his cock. "The juxtaposition is lovely."

Dean felt cold, his hairless legs sensitive to every current of the air. Only Cas, pressed against his body, was warm, his hand running soothingly up and down Dean's side, like he was a horse, ready to bolt. The hand around Dean's cock, still hard, started to pump his shaft.

Dean focused his attention on that, on Cas. The whispers almost seemed to fall away, and Dean let his hear fall back and thrust his hips into Cas's grip. It was so close to familiar, Cas's heat against his back, the hand on his cock firm, if a bit softer than usual from the lotion. Juxtaposition was right-- it seemed almost absurd that no more than ten minutes ago, he'd been shivery under the touch of a razor, and now he was standing in the middle of a crowd of people in women's heels.

His hands hung limp at his side. He couldn't think what to _do_ with them, Cas's hand on his cock stealing away rational thought. They twitched when Cas's other hand moved from his waist up to his left nipple and rubbed around the edge playfully before squeezing it.

Dean felt desperately exposed; with Cas at his back, anyone who cared to look could see all of him: his hard, dripping cock caught tight within Cas's fist, the shy, embarrassed expression he could feel on his face-- if they were looking closely, they'd even be able to see how his knees had started to shake. Pleasure knotted up inside him, and he felt _naked_. Cas's touch had broken him open and he was there for anyone to see. Only the knowledge that _Cas_ was the only one who would ever be able to take advantage of it saved him from total breakdown. Tears of frustration-- or relief-- squeezed out of his eyes, and he pressed himself back against Cas and turned his head to the side, desperate to hide.

Cas's hand gripped his cock just under the crown, pinching the skin tight so Dean could feel Cas's fingers under the flare of the head, tight, unusual and good. He shuddered as Cas's thumb moved up, catching on the skin, to slide against his slit.

"I want you to come, Dean," Cas whispered behind him and just like that Dean was done, balls drawn up tight, spurting into the air around him. He could actually _feel_ his cock swell, the muscles contracting sharply, sending wet strings of come out and away.

His knees turned to jelly and he collapsed, caught right away in Castiel's arms. The noises around them cut off, and Dean blinked in confusion and reached up to remove the blindfold.

They were in the hotel room. Cas picked him up with ease, bridal style and laid him gently on the bed. "You were very good," he said, voice still low with arousal.

Dean cleared his throat. "Were we-- did you bring us back here?" he asked, hoarse.

"No," Cas shook his head as he wiped away a drop of sweat-- of course it was sweat-- from Dean's face. "I don't think you are ready to face that reality, yet. Not afterwards." He nodded at the blindfold clutched tight in Dean's fist. "Once you come, you immediately try to build your barriers up again." He kissed Dean, lightly, on the forehead. "One day you won't."

Dean coughed, guiltily, and gestured at Cas's cock, tenting the front of his pants. "You want a hand with that?"

Cas smiled. "No, Dean. I'm alright. Just sleep."

The adrenaline had worn off and the exhaustion of a long, eventful night crept in. "You sure?" he asked, even as he made himself comfortable on the bed. He closed his eyes.

"I'm sure." His voice came out of Dean from the dark, but that wasn't so bad. Cas was always just where Dean needed him, even when Dean couldn't see.

He slept.


End file.
